The little things....

Figuring out how to post on my blogs from my phone puts a smile on my face. :)

support

It's the only thing that will carry us through.  We've got to know we're not alone.  There are so many out there that have lost a child or more.  But joining a support group was something that I had to think about for a long time.  Granted it was only a few months in normal time but when it comes to grieving, time really has no structure.  It just moment after moment and when you think of all the moments that have gone by, it really is a long time.  Now, I'm in a wonderful group.  The best thing about it is the fact that there is no structure.  We don't sit around and talk about our feelings because it's not a therapy session.  And as some may tell you, therapists aren't always what they're cracked up to be.  Why pay someone who's not going to listen to YOU but instead talk about where they're from.  It's happened.  For some, having the do this/do that perspective on topics gives some step by step idea of the grief process...or that's how I see it.  I've thought about going to a topic based group but the idea of talking to strangers about everything is overwhelming even now.  So, until then, if I get there, I'll stay in my new found niche.  Either way.  Support is absolutely necessary in helping me and other bereaved parents get through this.  But be aware that there is no expiration on grief.  We will never get OVER the deaths of our children....only miss them more as we look back and see where they'd be at any certain time.  Gone, but not forgotten. 

Laughing

When mourning the loss of a child, laughing is the last thing you feel like doing.  But just as in the SATC movie, you will laugh when something is really funny.  First let me say that what I laughed about yesterday is funny to me, so please don't take this personally or that I take my grief and the grief of others lightly.  Secondly, I don't really give a beep what you think about my grief because it was something really funny and I had to laugh.  My son is in VBS at our church this week and when I went to pick him up yesterday he was in tears as a friend and wife of a pastor there was trying to console him.  He'd fallen earlier that day and had bandaids covering most of his battle scars.  Minor scrapes, but upsetting to him nonetheless.  Anywho, at some point during vbs he'd fallen again and one of the bandaids had attempted to detach itself.  Why was he upset?  Not about falling, but about the bandaid coming off.  He absolutely hates bandaids!  Doesn't want them on but once they are he doesn't want them off.  Go figure.  So I have to chuckle, all the while holding it in as best I can.  (Don't want the lil guy to know I'm laughing at what to him is a major predicament.)  So we get home, I clean the grass and dirt off the scrapes and get some more neosporin on them.  He's done pretty good today but still walks a lil funny just because he knows they're there.  My poor kid gets so upset by a bandaid.  ROFL.  I love him so much.

Baby Showers

Let me start off by saying, as a bereaved parent, that although I appreciate the host of a baby shower inviting me to celebrate someone's baby coming, I won't be lining up to give gifts.  This feels awkward in a way because, again as a bereaved parent, I am throwing a baby shower for a church friend whose home was destroyed in the April tornadoes.  I keep telling myself it's crazy and I'm the last person that should be throwing a shower but then I realize that this tragedy has turned their lives upside down, much like the deaths of my boys.  No, it is not the same thing but we are responding in much the same way.  We are both upset about what has happened, respectively.  We ask why what happened had to happen to us.  Other people's homes are fine.  Other people's babies are fine.  Other people get to move on as if nothing has happened because that is one of the harsh realities for survivors of any kind.  Life does move on whether you're keeping up or not.  Before I start rambling too bad let's get back to the topic at hand.  I've been invited to another baby shower but as a bereaved parent I am very selective about who's shower I attend.  If you're an acquaintance, I'm likely not to show.  A close friend?  I'll want to, but again the idea of celebrating someone else doing what I can't somehow repeat, is a hard thing to deal with.  You'll likely understand if I just can't do it.  Family?  I'll grit my teeth and do it, because family is family.  This friend has lost everything.  They need this. I am more than willing to put my grief aside and help a family get back on its feet for a baby that deserves to come into an unscathed world, unknowing of the circumstances.  This all said, regardless of who you are, regardless if I attend your shower or not; I am happy for you.  Babies are wonderful things.  Life is precious and is worth celebrating.

Can't Get Over It

Not just the loss of my boys, but the feeling that I'm still incomplete.  Two pieces of myself are now missing, never to be replaced.   I get R down for "quiet time" and though I like the ease of getting one child down, I still feel "gone".  Parts of me are elsewhere.  I think every day of what it would be like having more kids, and I can't seem to get past the what-ifs.  What if we'd had all three boys here, how much fun would that be?  I like to think that no matter how stressed I got, I'd know how blessed I was to have them.  Now I think what if we don't have any more?  What if we do?  What will our life be like?  I want to let go and let God, but there's that human part required for procreation and the desire or lack therof to do so.  I don't know for certain what our future will be, but I know I must first be content with where I am, or at least accept it as fact, and only then can I begin to really move forward.  I'm not moving on, and I'm not having "another" child.  I am still a bereaved mother, and I will not be able to replace those boys.  I may have a "second child in the house" but that is something that time must tell.  A good friend said that both parents must be in a good place to be able to have more or another.  We're not there together as we should be yet.  Maybe someday.    What sparked this today?  Seeing a movie and having lunch with two friends that both have 4 kids.  All I keep track of is one. 

What was I thinking?

From what I remember, it feels like I wanted nothing more in the world than to have two kids in the house.  When we conceived the twins, we were ecstatic.  The idea of three kids was overwhelming to say the least, but I was really looking forward to it.  I know other moms who have three boys, albeit none of them twins.  But now?  It's the third night of VBS, R will NOT go to sleep for anything, even after taking away his favorite game and threatening to keep him home from VBS.  I'm at my wits end!  See, told ya he made up for it :)  I feel so stupid for wanting more kids.  Why didn't I know that I couldn't handle even one?  He's a great kid, yes, and brings a joy nothing else ever will but there are days I kick myself for wanting another.  Even just this past weekend I brought up the idea, about what a good base plan would be for now.  I don't want to be on the pill for the rest of my life.  I think a good cry is in order, I've got some major "roar" I need to get out before it gets unleashed on the wrong person.

Crowded Kitchen

That's the thought at present.  I'm standing here in my skinny gulley of a kitchen with its strange vertical yellow and white stripe wallpaper next to R, my living and very outgoing except in new situations son, as he eats his Emeril ravioli one messy bite at a time.  I imagine how crowded this kitchen would be with a grand total of FOUR boys all trying to throw trash away, or grab a drink, or simply be in here because everyone else is too.  I must admit, I sigh a sigh of relief that I can stand here without being constantly bumped or "mommy-d".  Though R makes up for it most days.  As a bereaved parent, not a day goes by that I don't wish with all my might that my boys were all here together, driving me crazy; as they should.  I wish for the days that I would be running around crazy filling bottles fixing ravioli and trying to keep my hair contained all at the same time.  But for now the only distraction I have from the tomato smothered pasta is this laptop; which, by the way, has a mind of its own.  The trouble I had to go through just to even see the blogger page.  Even facebook can't be trusted by this computer.  7 months later, and I still wish this house as crowded as I did back in October.  Moreso in November.  The days I knew that, for the foreseeable future, there would still only be three of us here.  Taking the cribs down?  Let's not even go there.  The panic that set in on where to move them too, we waited a good month before we even thought about doing anything in there.  And now?  It's one hell of a guest room, if I say so myself!  I like to think of it as a French B&B.  I'm so in love with blue and bronze right now, its even taken over my bedroom.  The mama boy of a cat reminds me that reality has set it.  Life moves on, and the cat must go outside...or something like that.